“I’d be careful which words you choose, Mr. Thomas,” Ford warned. “Walls have ears, you know.”
“Oh,” Ben answered unwaveringly, “I know.” He dropped a handful of black-and-white photographs on the desk.
Ford, with eyes like granite, stared hard at him. “What’s this?”
“Insurance,” Ben answered smoothly. “To make sure that these requests are met without comeback on my client.”
“Comeback?” Austin repeated.
“Yes.” Ben placed a finger on the top photograph, which showed Austin smiling over dinner and shaking hands with Raphael Casari, a convicted felon known by the FBI for money laundering and drug trafficking. “As I understand it, Mr. Casari is not the kind of character one would have involved in a business such as yours, unless there were more, shall we say, dishonest things at hand.” Ben smiled.
“Pictures prove nothing,” Ford said indifferently.
Ben smiled. “True. Although these might.” He slapped another two folders down.
Ford’s eyes flickered over them. “And these are?”
“Statements.” Ben sat forward. “Monetary statements, which, for some reason, were harder to find than your others. Mr. Ford, does the word ‘embezzlement’ mean anything to you?”
With that heavyweight punch, Ben knew the ground under Austin Ford’s two-thousand-dollar loafers became unsteady. He glanced once more at the photographs and folder and pressed a palm down the front of his tie. He stared hard at Ben. The menace spreading through his features, pinching and sharpening, was truly terrifying. He was no longer the big dog. He had his ass against the wall, and he didn’t like it.
“What. Do. You. Want?” he asked through gritted teeth.
Ben met Ford’s glower. “My client owns sixty percent of WCS Communications, with a value of six hundred million dollars.” He cocked an eyebrow. “If he were to cash in those shares, it would be one hell of a blow for your investors, right?”
“What. Do. You. Want?” Ford repeated in a breath that reeked of anger.
“I want you to honor the goodwill proposal for Mr. Carter, effective immediately. I want written confirmation of said honoring in triplicate, signed by yourself and your CFO, faxed through to my office and to my client by the end of business today. I want funds transferred to an account of his choosing by the same time and his name put back on the public shareholder list.”
It was Ben’s turn to sit forward. He dropped his chin and glowered at Ford. “If that doesn’t happen, Mr. Ford, I’m sure the police would be interested to know just what business it is you do with Casari.” He held up a picture. “Considering he’s wanted by the Feds for crimes dating back some thirty years.”
Ben released the photograph so it sailed elegantly back down to the table, drifting from side to side in graceful silence. He picked up his briefcase and stood from his seat at the same time Ford sprang from his own chair, moving so close to him, Ben could feel Austin’s breath on his chin.
“You’re playing a very dangerous game here, Thomas,” Ford growled. “You and Carter. And you’d better know one thing: I don’t lose. I always win. I always fucking win.”
“Well,” Ben answered quietly, standing toe to toe with him. “It doesn’t seem that way in this case, now, does it?” Ben edged closer. “And on a more personal note, stay the fuck away from Kat.”
After a beat of tense silence, Ben turned from Austin Ford and walked toward the office door.
“This is not over, Thomas,” Austin seethed. “You tell your client this isn’t over!”
“I will,” Ben remarked casually. “Oh, and by the way,” he said cheerfully, pulling the door open. He turned back. “You can keep those photographs and statements, Austin. I have copies.”
26
The clouds had rolled in dark and thunderous by the time Carter and Kat arrived back at the house. The pair of them ran and shouted, laughing curses when the heavens opened above them. A flash of lightning made Kat squeal when they finally made it inside, making Carter laugh. Kat flipped him off and started removing her soaked clothes while her hair dripped down her face.
Disappearing up the stairs to change, Carter followed her, once he’d lit the large fire in the living room, with worry in every step. She hadn’t been herself since they’d left the convention. Carter wasn’t the most knowledgeable man in terms of women’s moods, but something was definitely up.
He thought back, trying to remember when she’d become so quiet, distant. Was it what he’d told her about Max and his past? Was she upset about the whole introducing-her-as-a-“friend” thing?
With his eyes fixed on the bathroom door where she was changing, he pulled off his jeans and T-shirt, and, after he’d rubbed his head dry with a towel, settled for his trusty gray sweats and a dark blue NYPD hoodie. Oh, the irony.
Kat reappeared moments later and dropped her wet clothes into a bag. “Ben texted. The meeting went well. That stuff you gave him about Austin’s deals with Casari worked like a charm, he said.”
“Of course it did. Even Austin isn’t immune to a little blackmail.”
Kat shook her head and put her hands on her hips. Her face flushed with blatant annoyance. She looked hot as hell. “I can’t believe Beth tried to set me up with him. He’s far more of a criminal than you are, and then she has the audacity to talk shit about you and—”
“Hey.” Fuck that shit. Carter didn’t want to waste one more minute thinking about Austin Ford. “Kat, it’s done, okay?” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms.
“It makes me so mad.”
“I know. It makes me mad, too. But he’s not worth it.”
Kat huffed but nodded.
“So listen,” he continued. “I’ve lit the fire in the living room, and I have a grotesquely large selection of DVDs. How about we watch TV, get warm, and forget about that asshole, huh?”
Her smile was small. “That sounds good.”
Frowning, he wound his arms around her waist. “Is anything else bothering you?”
She buried her nose in his neck, hiding her face. “No.”
Carter wasn’t convinced. Nevertheless, he halted the desire to push her further. He didn’t like it, but what choice was there? He’d trusted her enough to open up; he had to be patient for her to do the same.
* * *
Back downstairs, Carter poured some red wine, while Kat stood by the glass doors watching the formidable clouds roll over the sea. The sky was pitch-black.
“I love listening to the rain when I’m nice and warm inside,” she said quietly as thunder rumbled above them.
Carter handed her a glass. “Me too,” he admitted, sipping his drink. “Gran and I would do that a lot here.”
“Yeah? Dad and I did, too.”
After grabbing a shitload of snacks from the kitchen, Kat took her seat on the sofa while Carter fought with the DVD player. Kat laughed when he held up the disc case to show her what they’d be watching. Beetlejuice.
“I can’t believe you have that!” she exclaimed. He sat down and lifted her legs onto his lap. “Hey, Carter, 1988 called, they want their movie back.”
“It’s awesome,” he deadpanned, and hit play on the remote. “Shut up.”
Carter was quickly engrossed in the movie, but all Kat could do was watch him. She could see the child inside him with each snort of laughter. He seemed so relaxed, and never once removed his hand from her knee, circling it with the pad of his thumb while he drank, ate, and smoked with the other.
The connection was wonderful and allowed Kat to reflect on the day they’d shared. Discovering that he had gone to prison for his friend had left Kat reeling. He was loyal and selfless and so much more than she had ever imagined. His trust and honesty with her was the most beautiful thing, and her heart ached to tell him so. She let her eyes wander down Carter’s strong profile, feeling heavy with overwhelming emotion.